


Status Quo's Enemy

by volunteer_of_hufflepuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, First War, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11976033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/volunteer_of_hufflepuff
Summary: Many people are rebels through their very existence and Nymphadora Tonks is one of them.One set of grandparents are muggles, the others staunch blood purists.One aunt fights for her right to live, the other one seeks to destroy the same thing.However, this is also a tale of a young metamorphagus and her struggles against the world.Currently:Lily smirked. "Of course. There was the time when he pranked himself accidentally but," she paused, "the rest of us managed to avoid it. And by us, I mean literally everyone. He had 'this person is an idiot' tattooed on the back of his robes until Remus took pity on him and made it bigger. Oh, and unremovable."Tonks tried and failed to fight to fight off a bout of laughter. She loved Sirius, really, but this was simply too funny.





	1. Nymphadora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did people react to Nymphadora's birth? Was it with trepidation, disdain or indifference?
> 
> _"A metamorphagus was born today; think of the possibilities!"_

"Why is my daughter's hair constantly changing colour?" 

This is the first thing Andromeda Tonks (nèe Black) decided to say when she met her daughter for the first time. 

The midwife blushed, startled by the bluntness of her question. "Your daughter's a metamorphagus, Mrs Tonks. That's why her hair's pink now and was blue before that." 

"Which is?" asked Andromeda, throwing the midwife an irritated look. 

"It means that she can change her physical appearance at will. It's quite a rare ability," the midwife said with a smile, her quill poised above her clipboard, waiting to record information for the baby's birth certificate.

Andromeda nodded, already scanning her extensive family tree for the metamorphagus that she knew existed. Her husband sitting at her bedside is a lot more - at least visibly - excited at this revelation. 

He's beaming enough to power the sun and looking at his daughter in utter awe, speechless and brimming to his fingers with pride. 

After their daughter's name was officially recorded - Nymphadora, they had decided, Andromeda liking its etymology and mythological connection - the midwife asked them another question. 

"Will you be placing a birth announcement in the Daily Prophet?" 

The couple shared a look. Originally, they weren't going to bother - what a waste of a galleon to tell the world something they didn't, frankly, care about - but now that their daughter was a metamorphagus, a long lost, revered trait of the Black family ... well, it would definitely ruffle her parents' feathers. As well as her sisters. Andromeda enjoyed irritating those who disowned her for daring to fall in love with someone not of magical origin. It was, in fact, one of her favourite hobbies. 

So, she nodded, hugging her daughter close. "Yes, please; how much would it cost to have it on the first page - it's pretty big news, isn't it, first metamorphagus born in centuries?" 

"It'd be free of cost, it'll be such a profitable investment for the newspaper that there's no need. Now, we'll need a picture so people will actually believe the story," the midwife said, ducking out of the room briefly to get the hospital's photographer. 

The fetched man's hair was fluffy and sticking out of place, his hazel eyes a little bloodshot; it was, after all, quarter to 5 in the morning. 

"Get together," the photographer commanded in a brisk voice, "a little bit closer, make sure her hair's visible … that's good. Smile!" 

The shutter clicked, capturing the miracle, its thick violet smoke spiralling away into the hallway.

…                                                                                                         

It was during a heated debate about the pros and cons of Muggle Studies that the post arrived. A scroll of parchment narrowly missed landing in Sirius Black's pumpkin juice, who continued to bicker with his friends. 

Whilst reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice, the letter caught James Potter's eye. It lacked the crimson ribbon of his parents' letters and Remus and Peter were sitting on the other side of the table. 

"Hey, Sirius, you've gotten something," James Potter said, nudging his best friend. 

Sirius unrolled it with a slight frown. "Thanks, mate." 

He shook out his black curls in confusion and concern and started to unroll the parchment cautiously.

No one really bothered to write to him these days; his parents (his mother) and, therefore, the rest of his family - especially Cousin Bellatrix - were annoyed with him both for being sorted into Gryffindor and, subsequently, befriending several half-bloods and muggleborns. 

At the sight of his favourite cousin's elaborate script, though, his face broke into a smile. "Andromeda had her baby - a girl. Her name's Nymphadora, the poor thing. And," his eyes scanned the rest of the page, "she's a metamorphagus! Everyone's going to be so mad." 

Peter noticed - or rather he noticed that his bantering buddy had stopped responding. "What's that?" 

"She can change her physical appearance … wow, imagine that, no bad hair days." 

"So, the baby's what ... your first cousin once removed? Are you going to visit her?" Remus said, his fringe almost falling into his eyes as he looked up from his porridge. 

Sirius carefully rolled the letter up. "Of course, if I can. Now, Peter, are you doing Muggle Studies or not?" 

… 

"Hey, look at that; d'you think it'd be good to have her in the workforce?" 

Alastor Moody looked up as a bubbly young youth burst into his office, unprecedented. A copy of the daily newspaper now laid upon their most recent muggleborn disappearance case. 

"We're drowning in work at the moment due to that unsavoury Voldemort character; cut to the chase," Moody said, putting his quill down before ink splattered everywhere. 

"A metamorphagus was born today; think of the possibilities!" The youth replied eagerly. 

"Think of your work," Moody said, handing him back his newspaper as he left the room, but not before noticing the young couple – was that a Black? - beaming through the paper. 

Frowning, Moody picked up his quill. Bellatrix Lestrange was a key suspect in all of these disappearance cases – it wouldn't be surprising, her family being one comprising of pure blood extremists – except for Andromeda, the second sister, who'd allegedly married a muggleborn. 

Tonks wasn't a wizarding name, so that rumour was probably true. It'd be a great asset to have a metamorphagus in the force, of course. However, would it be wise for someone already marked by Bellatrix to place themselves in an even more dangerous position? Moody opened up the case's folder. Time would tell. 

… 

There was something peeking out from under the mounds of wedding plans. Narcissa picked it up with a frown; it was today's edition, March the 5th, 1973, of the _Daily Prophet._  

It was her scream that brought Bellatrix running into the dressing room. 

She saw Narcissa's shaking hands and blood drained face."'Cissa? Who died?" Bellatrix asked curiously. 

"Who was born, more like," Narcissa muttered bitterly. "Look; front page news. Doesn't the world have anything to do but celebrate the spawn of a disowned Black and a mudblood?" 

The newspaper was instantly torn from Narcissa's hand. A waving picture of her _other_ sister and her good for nothing husband was holding a small baby. The baby's hair was flickering through various shades of grey and it was the source of her immense disgust. 

 _First_ _Metamorphagus_ _Born_ _i_ _n_ _Centuries!_ the title declared, a short paragraph underneath stating her niece's physical facts. 

Bellatrix tossed down the newspaper onto the oaken table with a glare. "Utter filth," she snarled. "Whoever let that abomination live shouldn't be given the same courtesy." 

"How - a metamorphagus - that's - she - should we tell mother and father?" Narcissa spluttered as the door creaked upon. 

Druella stepped into the room, her elegant robes swishing, as her youngest spoke. "Tell me what? Did the tailor's send in the wrong wedding dress again, dear?" 

Bellatrix snorted. "Unfortunately, dear mother, you now have a grandchild." 

"Are you pregnant?" her mother asked. 

"No." 

" _Narcissa!_ " 

"Mother," Narcissa said, slightly flustered, "no, thank you very much. The marriage isn't until another few months, remember." 

Druella's gaze found the newspaper; it then continued to survey her estranged daughter's face, youthful and happy with her new family, yet still sculpted with the aristocracy inherited from her abandoned one. 

Her disowned daughter bore an unnerving resemblance to her eldest; her brown eyes were framed by long, exquisite black lashes. Curls of her own rich chocolate colour surrounded a thin, elegant nose. It was heartbreaking to have a glimpse into a life that came from her which she now no longer knew; it was a window into someone's world she had been banished from. The picture was colourless, but her memory was the paintbrush. 

She took a deep breath before briefly examining the monster who stole her baby away from her under the thick cloak of night. His neatly trimmed hair gleamed and a sword of hatred struck her heart. 

Tearing her eyes away from the betrayer and her catalyst, Druella brought her attention back to her, thankfully loyal, children. 

"So, Nymphadora, was it? My granddaughter. It is a pity that I cannot call her that in polite company, as being related to a metamorphagus would be an awfully useful asset. Dear," she added, lightly placing her hand on Narcissa's shoulder, "don't fret. It's unfortunate that she chose to breed with that awful husband of hers, but think of this; you have another way to torture your sister now." 

... 

She nervously paced around the waiting room; whilst she was understanding of her sister-in-law's request for privacy during the birth, it was also completely agonising to simply wait when there was a new life - her niece – lingering around the corner. 

"Ivy Tonks?" 

The young woman looked up at the sound of her name and ceased her pacing immediately. "Yes?" 

The midwife's whole face lit up. "Come and meet your niece." 

Excitement pulsing through her veins, Ivy followed her through the long, windy corridors of St Mungo's to the maternity ward. It was strange; last time this year she was fretting over her N.E.W.Ts, now she was fretting over events she had no control whatsoever over. 

"Ivy, come in!" A lilting voice, still incredibly polished and posh, drifted through the curtain. 

Ivy approached the bed with a little bit of trepidation. Her brother gave her encouraging smile from his seat next to his wife, who, whilst her hair was tumbling down in loose curls and her face glistening a little bit with sweat, didn't look much worse for wear overall. 

"She's a metamorphagus, by the way," she said, shifting herself up on the bed, the pristine sheets rustling as a result. 

"A meta what?" 

Ted answered her question. "She can change her physical appearance to whatever she wishes, essentially. When did Mum and Dad say they were coming?"

"I offered to apparate them here but you know Mum doesn't like it, so they're driving down currently; they'll be here in an hour or two. They sent their congratulations," Ivy said, thinking about her mother's recent bouts of clumsiness that may have been behind her refusal.

He nodded, his face a little bit concerned - they both knew how ecstatic their mother was about meeting her first grandchild, a little bit of discomfort wouldn't have stopped her - as he carefully passed his daughter to Ivy. "This is Nymphadora." 

 _Gift of the nymphs_ , Ivy thought. She looked at her angelic, slumbering face; innocence amongst a dawning war with aunts on starkly opposing sides. New life was wonderful, yet also frighteningly fragile. As she held Nymphadora close to her, she vowed to not let her get hurt in something she was a part of already due to her parentage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed; leave a review if you would like to.
> 
> *Ivy Tonks is my original character - who could have existed - the younger sister of Ted Tonks. I've added her to have a stark contrast between her and Bellatrix, but also so I can practice creating and developing a realistic character.


	2. Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About 5 months from the day of Nymphadora's birth that Sirius finally gets to meet her, temporarily freed from his parents clutches to the loving embrace of the Potters.
> 
>  
> 
> _The scent of his cousin - vanilla with a hint of cherry - enveloped him for the first time in years as he stepped into her new home._

"You're only going to the Potters because we want to get rid of you and give Regulus the most attention we possibly can before he heads off for Hogwarts, am I perfectly clear?"

"Yes, mother," Sirius said, the scathing words bouncing off a lifetime of armour built from them.

"Good," his mother replied, "because this is definitely for our sake, not yours. The Potters were the best option ... Narcissa's married now, so it would be awkward for you to stay at your cousin's place. And Muggles ... no, better for you to at least stay with those of pure blood, even if they are blood traitors."

It was half an hour later when James' mother arrived to collect Sirius; the mother and son pair had been standing there for just as long in defiant silence.

"Thank you, Mrs Black," said Mrs Potter, shaking his mother's hand, "for letting your son visit our house."

"That's ok," she said in response, polite to the bone. "You can take him to Platform 9 3/4; he's bringing all of his stuff with him."

No  _if that's ok with you_ or  _if you really don't mind_ from Sirius' mother. Questions weren't questions in her world; they were demands, to be carried out by those lesser than herself.

Mrs Potter nodded, said goodbye, hesitated as if to say something as hopeful (and naïve) as "shouldn't you hug your mother goodbye?" but instead, she grabbed Sirius' hand and disapparated with him to her house.

...

James was ecstatic at the sight of his best friend; this was the first time he'd ever seen him outside of school. It had been with great excitement - and trepidation on Sirius' part - _I won't believe it 'till it happens, my mother's a controlling beast_ \- he'd scrawled in one of his many letters - that this arrangement had been organised.

Mrs Potter had landed in the living room gracefully, her escort immediately crushed by her son.

"Sirius, good to see you! Remus and Peter are coming over for a sleepover on the weekend, and I asked my mum and dad about your request; they said they would love to let you see your estranged family. Well, only if they meet them first and I go with you for a little bit," James said as he hugged the life out of his best mate, his words almost deleting each other in their haste.

"Slow down, that's great, James. Thank you, Mrs Potter," he added, looking at her, his gratefulness spilling out of his eyes.

She smiled. "Please, call me Euphemia. It'll be easier and - well - it'll just be."

Sirius lugged his trunk up the stairs; it was heavy, packed tightly to the brim by Kreacher, yet his spirits felt lighter than ever before. He was free even earlier than usual from the shackles of his home, and in a few days, he'd get to meet Nymphadora for the first time - and he hadn't seen Andromeda (or met her new husband, for that matter) since she'd run away. It would be lovely.

...

The scent of his cousin - vanilla with a hint of cherry - enveloped him for the first time in years as he stepped into her new home.

A young woman, who was washing a teacup in a steel sink, looked up at the sound of their arrival. Her face was graced with a genuine smile as she beckoned them to come in further.

"Sirius," she said, her happiness pouring out into that one word, "Mrs Potter - thank you for letting him visit. My aunt wouldn't have let him see me over my dead body. Is this James?"

Mrs Potter smiled, dismissing her gratitude with a wave of her hand. "Yes, it is. Do you mind if he stays for a little bit?"

Her warm brown eyes twinkled, creating a stark distinction between herself and her murderous elder sister. "It's not a problem. Now, what time will you come to collect James? I will gladly drop off Sirius tomorrow morning."

Mrs Potter reached out and squeezed her son's shoulder gently. "Just before dinner time - about 6. I'll bring Sirius' stuff then."

With one graceful, charming smile, she waltzed elegantly out of the house to apparate back to her home.

Andromeda turned to face the gangly youths. "Now," she said, leading them out of the tidy drawing room that the kitchen looked out onto, "I'm assuming you would like to meet the newest addition to our home? Ted is at work at the moment, I'm afraid," she added, cleaning up their muddy footmarks almost seamlessly, using her wand to vanish the trekked in mess, "but it's nice to see you again, Sirius, and the boy you're so enamoured with."

James threw his arm over Sirius' shoulder, trying hard to not stumble as they entered Andromeda's quaint bedroom. "Yep, that's me."

Sirius' angry retort never left his mouth, though his shrug that threw off James' arm was still executed, being cut off by the wonderful sight of his peacefully sleeping cousin. Her hair was currently a soft, downy peach and her onesie was a simple, soft cream.

When he approached her crib, a waft of peaches - the soft, stewed peaches of his favourite tart - with a slight sprinkle of cinnamon overcame him.

"What's that?" he asked, his nose welcoming the smell of innocence.

Andromeda glanced at him, her nose wrinkling in the way it did when she felt guilty. "I tried to make some peach tarts earlier - they're your favourite, after all - but it, um, kind of exploded all over her. I managed to salvage the treacle tart, though."

"Oh," he replied, amused yet not surprised. Their cooking lessons had comprised of "how to yell instructions at house elves to wait on your every whim 101". Really polished your dulcet tones, if not your ability to complete tasks independently.

"So there's our star attraction," Andromeda said curtly, "she's asleep at the moment, which I'd say is disappointing but really it's a blessing."

"That's ok, we don't mind," replied Sirius as James nodded.

A curtain of silence settled across the room, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was almost peaceful; Ted and Andromeda's room was painted a pale blue, the curtains with their soft pattern of flowers were fluttering slightly in the warm summer breeze, which was filtering in through the open windows.

The room itself was contrastingly simple to the homes of their childhoods; even the Potters' household held a slight air of magical eccentricity. Simplistic, neat but, as Sirius glimpsed a pile of rumpled clothes lying in a corner, not suffocatingly cleaned by a frantic house elf. It was homely, to the extent that if a Muggle was to walk in here, they'd feel completely at home.

"Your house ... it's so ..." he couldn't quite finish.

His sentence was left hanging in the air, his thoughts silently filling in the blanks; it was so achingly normal, with soft personal touches dotted throughout; it felt lived in, loved, not like the stiff hallways of Grimmauld Place. James' place was nice, but it was still awfully grand.

Andromeda looked at him, and all of their awful, micro-managed funless childhoods passed between the cousins; both equally pressured; Andromeda to marry well, look pretty and never to have any original opinions and Sirius to carry on tradition perfectly as the heir.

James squeezed his shoulder as Nymphadora started to stir. Her mother instantly bent over her wooden, handmade crib; her long, dark hair momentarily hiding Nymphadora from her visitors' view. Picking her up, she turned to Sirius and her gaze softened.

"This is too late; too far into the course of this year, but late is better than never; Sirius, meet your cousin - technically your first cousin once removed - Nymphadora Tonks."

The person being introduced was looking at him with an eerily familiar steely grey gaze full of curiosity as her hair flickered to black; the exact glossy shade of Sirius' locks.

Andromeda, when she noticed her daughter's changes, looked up, a faint tinge of pink brushing her cheeks but, overall, she looked used to this occurrence. "Sometimes, when she meets someone new, she instinctively matches their eyes and hair. Sometimes," she said, her last word coming out almost inaudibly.

What was left unsaid hang in the air between them.  _Those who won't hurt her, those who'll care for her, those who'll die for her._

The door banged upon and James jumped, startled.

Andromeda laughed, soothing their worries with her melodious sound. "It's just Ted. We've got plenty of time before 6; would you like to play a game of Monopoly?"

The two teenagers turned to each other, clearly confused. 

"What's Monopoly?" asked James slowly, trying to correctly say this - whilst not totally foreign - unusual word.

Andromeda let out another laugh in response. "Oh, it's a muggle game - you'll love it. It's pretty easy to pick up."

Looking at each other again, still quite apprehensive, the two friends relaxed. If it was a muggle game, it shouldn't be too difficult to play. Right?

...

Monopoly turned out to be a lot harder than they initially thought.

Apparently, unlike they first thought, the properties with lower prices were not those of galleons and, therefore, more precious; instead, it was simply the bigger the number of the sale tag attached to the property was, the better it was to have.

Unfortunately, they only figured that out after Sirius traded Mayfair for Whitechapel Road with Andromeda - he didn't even have its counterpart, Old Kent Road - and James traded Piccadilly and Bond Street - the missing yellow and green properties to complete her monopolies, respectively - for Electric Company and Waterworks; at least he got a monopoly of sorts in return.

Ted, the banker and a quiet, steady player, tried not to laugh as they agreed naïvely to his wife's sly prepositions.

James, with all of his meagre properties already mortgaged, became bankrupt when he rolled a 4 that signed his bankruptcy contract, courtesy of the hotel on Bond Street, his old haunt.

It was shortly after this bankruptcy that James' mother arrived to collect him; he left with a pout at Andromeda's trickery, but his face broke into a smile as he saw her struggle to put Nymphadora into a high chair for dinner.

...

Dinner was a messy, chaotic affair. Turns out that's what happened when you forced an awfully stubborn 5-month-old baby to eat something she abhorred.

There was, as a result, a mixture of pear and pumpkin paste splattered across the room, courtesy of Nymphadora's mini-tantrum of having to consume it.

Whilst Andromeda struggled in earnest to feed their daughter, Ted talked to Sirius, primarily discussing his work - and his mishaps - in the Department of Improper Use of Magic. Oh, and his dreadful boss.

"There are rumours," he said, his voice low and almost hopeful, "that our horrible head of department - Dolores Umbridge, she's a nasty piece of work - is going to take up another position in the Ministry - I don't care where, but I'm not going anywhere up the ladder as long as she's head - she's awfully prejudiced against anyone or anything lesser than pureblood. Anyway, enough about me," he said, "you probably want to know what your dear old cousin has been up to in these last few years." 

Sirius nodded, shuddering at the mention of Umbridge - she was really against werewolves, wanted to exterminate every single last one - and swivelled his chair around to face Andromeda, whose silky hair was now flecked with orange. "When are you going back to work?" he asked bluntly.

"Well," she started, leaning over the table to hand the bowl and spoon to her husband, "I'm a medical researcher for St Mungo's - I have all the required NEWTs, and it's rewarding work. I'll be going back in September," she added. "No offence to those who choose to be a housewife, but after being polished and shaped to be one for nearly my whole life - it's not something I ever want to do, and Ted, thankfully, respects that."

Sirius could tell, through the carefree nature of her words, how worried she'd been, ever since she'd realised that's what she was supposed to become, of how to escape her perilous fate.

"You know my mum would have beheaded me, as well as Ivy if I'd forced you to quit work," said Ted, the bowl of baby food now miraculously empty. "Not to mention how I'd never force you to be unhappy; marriage is supposed to be a two-way deal. Anyway, if you've finished your dinner dear, do you want to show Sirius the TV?"

Andromeda moved her wand in a sweeping motion, all the Fish and Chip remnants clearing themselves away, the wrappers hurling themselves into the bin and the plates stacking themselves neatly away into a weird muggle contraption. "Of course," she replied, "and Sirius, don't freak out."

...

He freaked out.

It was his instinctive reaction. "There's ... people ... stuck in that thing?" he asked, frightened.

"No," Andromeda replied, "it's a ... well ... it's a visual recording of something made by cameras that can capture sound and movement for as long as they have the memory to, transmitting waves through the air so we can see it here. Understood?"

Sirius shook his head. "No," he moaned, "but I'm doing Muggle Studies next year, so hopefully they'll cover it then. Instead, I'll know that it's a ..."

"A harmless, entertainment muggle device," Ted finished for him, "it's basically like a radio but with visuals as well."

"That makes a bit more sense," Sirius said, Ted's more simplistic language breaking through his own language barrier of all things muggle. "What are we going to watch?"

Andromeda walked forward and twiddled the dial, different images flickering on the screen. "There is this show called _Emmerdale Farm_. It's alright, but it's a soap opera - everything's exaggerated and dramatic, but it's all in good fun. We can eat the treacle tart as we watch."

...

 _Emmerdale Farm_ wasn't bad; Sirius couldn't remember much about the actual show itself, but the actual moving pictures themselves were fascinating.

After being introduced to the television, which was still a relatively new and expensive addition to the household - a housewarming as well as a wedding gift from Ted's parents, in fact - they played another round of Monopoly, this time it finishing with a rather intense stalemate between Sirius and Andromeda, the former who had now gotten the hang of the game.

With that, the couple said goodnight and retired to bed, but not before putting a silencing charm on Sirius' guest bedroom, Nymphadora having already fallen asleep in her father's arms.

Sirius sat in his bed and stared at the ceiling shortly after he turned his lights off.  _This is what family is supposed to be,_ he thought,  _accepting of who you are no matter what. This is the family who does not abhor me for daring to be different._

...

The light of a new day was starting to enter his room, gently stirring him from his slumber.

Blinking his eyes wearily, he wrapped himself up in his golden dressing gown and headed downstairs to the kitchen; there he was welcomed with the sight of his frazzled cousin desperately trying to feed her daughter breakfast, who was turning her little nose up at the mashed banana.

"Ted has gone to work," she told him, "so it's just us."

Sirius, who had already been observing the increasingly stubborn actions of his littlest cousin, nodded in response. "Can I try?" he asked.

Andromeda looks at him as if he's crazy. "If you would like to."

He took the bowl from her and tried to shovel some mixture into her mouth. Most of it went onto her mouth.

"Well," he snorted, "definitely a contender for Gryffindor."

"Maybe," Andromeda said with a glint in her eyes, "however, I think 5 months really is too early to tell, Sirius."

Nymphadora blinked up at her mother at the sound of her voice and smiled, slightly, and readily accepted Sirius' next spoonful of banana mash.

"It probably is," he sighed, wiping her mouth with a cloth, "but wherever she goes, she's going to be one of the most stubborn people there."

It was such an idyllic scene to wake up to; very simple, yet sweet like the subtle, delicate tang of strawberries. Clearly, Andromeda had broken the oppressive cycle of the Black family. Hopefully, one day, he'd be able to follow in her footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, and good luck in all future Monopoly endeavours.


	3. Elder's Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nymphadora meets her maternal grandparents for the first time in a quaint confectionary shop in Diagon Alley; barely a year old, the atmosphere around her is already fraught with tension.
> 
>  
> 
> _Druella leaned forward, eyes glinting maliciously, her hand brushing towards her granddaughter's head. Her daughter recoiled away from her, glancing at her husband as she did so, indicating with a jerk of her head for him to get the Easter Eggs so that they could leave immediately._

_April 7th, 1974._

It was a week before Easter, and yet somehow, they had neglected to get their Easter Eggs before now.

"You know she can't eat them, right? Or really remember them? Well, I guess she can eat them but it's really pointless, Dromeda ..."

The man trailed off as his wife's stony glare scorched him, their daughter strapped to her body; their daughter who was quietly absorbing the wonderful sight of a shop brimming with chocolate.

It was a glorious sight, indeed ... until her grandparents ruined the picturesque scene by entering the little shop they were currently in.

Druella and Cygnus Black were intimidating figures; their robes were immaculately tailored as were their top-of-the-world sneers; these were, after all, the parents of the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange.

Ted cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm over himself and his wife; unfortunately, he failed to remember that the charm must be individually placed on each person for it to be effective. Therefore, the couple noticed their, whilst biological, certainly not acknowledged granddaughter.

Druella's face was a storm; dark, unwelcoming and its changes flickering as fast as lighting across it, a feat which prevented others from correctly interpreting her facial expressions.

Cygnus, on the other hand, upon noticing a baby who was seemingly attached to nothing of significance, frowned, his blue eyes crinkling. Perhaps her mussed hair, today an unusual periwinkle blue, drew the, frankly, undesired attention ... or perhaps, it was the symbolic nature of that hair. And that the person holding the baby had decided to shield themselves from his view. You can't look down on something if it is invisible to you.

So with this unsettling combination of imperialistic haughtiness, self-righteousness and outright curiosity, Cygnus waved - no, twirled in a precise, elegant pattern - his wand as he muttered - but with perfect, precise intonation - the counter charm. It was to the elder couple's credit that they did not visibly react at the sight of their estranged daughter or the reason for her estrangement; rather, a look of satisfaction settled swiftly into their faces.

 _Curiosity killed the cat,_ Ted thought, _but satisfaction brought it back_. Hopefully, it would in this scenario and subsequently stop his negligent in-laws undue meddling.

It did not.

"Hello, daughter," Cygnus started, pointedly ignoring his son-in-law. "What brings you to this shop? Remorse, perhaps? A burning desire to rejoin the Black family fold?"

"No, father," replied Andromeda, hugging her daughter close, caressing her head. "A wish to purchase some chocolate for this coming Easter. Something that I will celebrate with my family."

Her last word hung in the air like a spilling drink; it was seeping into the very clothes they wore, burning away at their haughty essence.

Druella leaned forward, her eyes glinting maliciously, her hand skimming the air an inch away from her granddaughter's head. Her daughter recoiled away from her, glancing at her husband as she did so, indicating with a jerk of her head for him to get the Easter Eggs so that they could leave immediately.

Ted grabbed a few bags of those strawberry ones he knew she liked, grabbing a few more bags off the shelves before heading to the counter. There he stood, patiently waiting in line behind an elderly woman - Mrs Potter if he was not mistaken about how she styled her iron curls - as he strained to escape the store; or rather, get his daughter away from them.

Mrs Potter turned around at the patter of his footsteps and graced him with a smile. "How are you, Mr Tonks?"

"Not bad," he answered, sparing a fervent glance for the aisle where his wife still lingered with her baby groping parents, "just trying to escape an unwelcome family reunion as soon as possible."

Her gaze followed his. "Ah. The Blacks," she said, and having harboured Sirius last summer, she should have an inkling of their distasteful parenting practices as well as their mountain of selfish motivations.

"I mean," he added nervously, "you disown someone for marrying someone you wish never existed, but soon as she has a daughter with an invaluable talent, you decide that you would like to rescind that disownment and snatch her back up as a pawn for your games."

Mrs Potter shook her head; not in disgust, or disbelief, but in annoyance at the stupidity and arrogance of their actions. "You stay here," she muttered, "and buy your chocolate eggs, as you came here to do. I'll go and scare off your nasty in-laws."

The woman wandered off, her purchases already secure in her small, bottomless velvet purse, towards the standoff where the awkwardness was leaking into the air, turning it into stone.

The shopkeeper beckoned him forward so Ted placed his purchases on the counter, rummaging around in his pockets and subsequently producing a few galleons. The transaction was polite and quick; the shopkeeper appeared to be ignorant of the silent battle now occurring on his premises, whereas Ted, after stepping away from the counter, immediately swivelled back around to observe the proceedings.

"Mrs Tonks," she placed her manicured hand on Andromeda's shoulder, who barely managed to suppress a jump, "would you like to see Sirius again? He's coming to my place for the school holidays coming up; perhaps you can come to our home next week, wouldn't that be nice?"

She steered Andromeda away to her husband, safely out of reach. Ted handed her the eggs, whispered "I'll sort this out" - Andromeda looked at him in disbelief but knew by now it would be pointless to attempt to discourage his stupid act of protectiveness.

Mrs Potter turned towards the Blacks with an impeccable and unrealistically sweet smile.

"Now," she said, looking at the couple with a glare filled with fire, "what do you think you're doing?"

Druella and Cygnus threw an incredulous look right back at her.

"What," Druella seethed, "do you think you are doing interfering in family matters?"

Cygnus' wand slid into his twitching hand; they watched their biological relatives slip out of the shop and apparate back home, their daughter - and most importantly, the bargaining piece which could turn the tables in their favour in the tightly coiled pureblood world - out of their reach.

"Well," Mrs Potter began, casually sliding her own wand into her hand with a flick of her wrist, "first of all, I have had more regular correspondence with Mrs Tonks in the past year than you have deigned to have since she failed to conform to your, frankly, narrow worldview. My son is your oldest nephew's best friend, and as a consequence of that, I have become well acquainted with Mrs Tonks. You failed to consider the emotions of her cousins into the equation when you disowned her - and when you disowned her for being in love you lost the right to call her your daughter or part of your family."

Cygnus snarled in response, shooting an indistinguishable spell at her in fury, which was stopped by a shimmering shield that she did not cast. Ted smiled, maintaining the shield as he strode over to stand next to Mrs Potter and the fruit flavoured chocolate.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Black. I request, on the behalf of my family, that you leave us alone. Andromeda was perfectly happy to still be in your correspondence, but you disowned her because I'm a muggleborn. Does that bother you? I had 6 Outstandings in my NEWTs and I am a capable dueller; but clearly, all that matters is who my parents are."

Mrs Potter continued to radiate a steely gaze that the Blacks matched in its unfriendly intensity. He sighed, tired of the classist attitude he faced almost daily because his parents were incapable of using a wand. The best were those who were polite yet distant towards him, as his wife had been initially. Yet any ice can be thawed if one is diligent enough.

Ted pocketed his wand, his expression calm. "My name is Edward Tonks and I am related to you by marriage whether you like it or not. I am the father of your highly sought after grandchild - which, by the way, only has her metamorphagus powers because of my fresh gene pool, as Andromeda gleefully discovered - and the husband of your sane, intelligent and capable daughter. My mother and father both have jobs which require skills that are beyond your wildest imagination; for example, my father is a computer technician. My sister is currently a stenographer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, scarcely two years out of Hogwarts. One of your daughters is married to and the other is a Death Eater, the current detested terrorists of our society. You are the grandparents who will never know their first grandchild because you would only ever use her as a pawn in that twisted game of chess you play at your fancy balls." Ted's face remained to be one of steel as he wielded words as weapons against his scavenging in-laws.

The recipients simply sneered back at him in disbelief, disgusted that such filth dared to speak to them; and to say that muggles were better than them, the ones who had the golden blood of ancient wizards humming in their veins.

Mrs Potter nodded in his direction. "I'll see you at dinner next Friday." Her emerald cloak glistened in the warm, soft light of the shop as she exited the shop towards the world of spring and apparated back to her home.

Druella and Cygnus now despised the man in front of them with more personalised hatred than before his idiotic monologue. Unfortunately, it was now starkly transparent that he'd die before they sank their claws into either of his treasured girls. Azkaban and the subsequent loss of money weren't worth it.

The shopkeeper shuffled forward, a frown marring his face at the sight of the still idle customers. "Excuse me? No, not you sir," he said, looking at Ted, "those two. Are you going to buy anything? 'Cause I'm going to be closing in a few minutes for a cuppa."

"Yes," Druella said stiffly, "we'll be at the counter in a minute."

The shopkeeper nodded, humming along to _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_ as he walked back to the counter, which was now softly playing throughout the store.

"You have just made an enemy of the House of Black," Cygnus said menacingly, stepping towards him, his wand making a mark in the other wizard's chest.

"I thought I already had," he replied coolly. 

Druella's eyes narrowed. "You are a despicable beast," she spat, "who steals people's daughters away from them in the midst of the night."

"That was Andromeda's idea, actually," Ted said, pushing Cygnus' wand off his chest like it was a fleck of unwanted dust. "Goodbye."

With that, Ted left the store, his cover almost instantaneously shattering as he left the sight of his in-laws.  _That was horrible,_ he thought,  _and I was terrified out of my wits. But no one harms or dares to use my girls._


	4. Her First Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember your first of every significant thing, or you are at least aware of them.
> 
> Nymphadora was too young to remember her first funeral, but that doesn't mean that her grandmother's death didn't leave a mark on her.
> 
> Today is the day of her first funeral. Then there is another today, years in the future, when Nymphadora learns why Nana died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much to everyone who's read and has left kudos for this work - it means so much to me to see that so many people enjoying something I started as a little pet project. To the mysterious person who has subscribed, you made my day. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter - it is quite angsty, so I do apologise in advance, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger ... right?

Andromeda pulled her daughter closer to her body instinctively as they entered the room.

It was abreast with chatter. The atmosphere was solemn yet, as the life of the person that they were celebrating today had not ended unexpectedly, it was also resigned.

Ted was already seated next to his sister upfront, clad in a steel grey suit. His eyes were dull; the normal sparkle had been snuffed out of his eyes, though his hair had been impeccably brushed; that was her work.  _It's hard,_ she had told him,  _but you've got to look presentable._

Presentable. It was a side effect of a stiff childhood, her knowledge of what to wear for almost any situation. Funeral for your mother-in-law? Modest black dress, brushing her calves and coming up to the base of her neck in a soft downwards frill. A thick navy shawl to both keep out the bitter wind and to lend to anyone who needed one. Short heels, elegant and smooth with a spiral of fake silver gems sparkling at her toes. But it wasn't presentability that mattered today.

She led Nymphadora to sit next to her father through the rows of the grieving, who had been convinced to wear her natural features today; the usually bubbly as well as newly christened three years old was oddly subdued.

Ivy, who had looked up from where she had been listlessly digging her nails into the palm of her hand at the sound of their approach, managed a small, hesitant smile for her beloved niece. "Hey, Dora."

Nymphadora frowned. It was clear that she didn't like the sombre atmosphere, or how everyone was sad, or how, last week, her dad had told her that _no, we can't visit Nana anymore because she's no longer alive._

"Why are we here?"

Andromeda had tried to explain, fruitlessly, to her beforehand how they were going to come together with a bunch of people to say goodbye to Nana. It was unfortunate that  _now_ was the time when she was running through her  _why_ phase, questioning everything she could think of. Ted had been caught up in the funeral's preparations last night, leaving her to prepare their daughter for that very funeral."To celebrate Nana," Ivy replied softly, kindly. Mia had been so important to her; as she'd been to Andromeda, really, the mother she'd never had. Druella was all about presentability and formality, not love or making sure her children were comfortable when they felt unwell.

"To celebrate Nana," Ivy replied softly, kindly. Mia had been so important to her; as she'd been to Andromeda, really, the mother she'd never had. Druella was all about presentability and formality, not love or making sure her children were comfortable when they felt unwell.

"Ok," Nymphadora said, putting her head on her father's lap and curling up as she tended to do, her father gently stroking her head absentmindedly as they waited, silently, for the service to start.

All the formalities passed by in a blur, Nymphadora paying particularly close attention to the lectern as a stranger explained what was going on today.

"And now, we have the eulogy, spoken by Ivy Tonks," the man leading the funeral announced.

Ivy stood up, her black hair swaying, and stepped up to the lectern whilst taking a deep breath. A tear stained scroll of paper was awaiting her on the lectern, handwritten messily with many things crossed out.

"My mother," she began, immersing herself in the words, looking up uncharacteristically shyly at her watching audience, "was a great woman and she will be missed by all who knew her. She took whatever life threw at her with an uncommon amount of kindness and love. She let mistakes be made. As a beloved daughter, sister, mother, wife and friend, her generosity was keenly felt by all. Including me. As her daughter, she took my tantrums, my complaints, my worries into her stride - for she was accepting of who I was, not what I was or my temper, thankfully."

Ivy clearly couldn't say  _she took to the wizarding world like a fish to water,_ but the meaning was there anyway.

"One memory I'd like to share with you," she said softly, "is that of when she met my sister-in-law, Andromeda. It really started when Andromeda ran away from home, escaping an arranged marriage within a neglectful and stiff community. My mum mothered her immensely beginning upon her arrival, let her know that she was available if she had any worries - she was also the one who coached Andromeda through her pregnancy, chocolate, emotional rants and all. This is one example of how my mother was welcoming, loving and didn't let anyone feel alone in any of their endeavours."

A tear slipped down Andromeda's cheek. Ivy had run the idea of this memory by her, asking if it was ok if she included it. She'd immediately said yes. Mia had been so uncommonly kind and accepting of her when she appeared on her doorstep, penniless, sniffing and asking  _is Ted home?_ Her parents had told her that they had accepted someone's offer of marriage on her behalf and - a few months out of Hogwarts, still searching for a job - she'd run away, to the only person who she knew wouldn't betray her. Ted had not been home, but that didn't stop Mia from putting the kettle on and asking if she was ok. To someone who she didn't know who had turned up on her doorstep without warning shortly after midnight, drenched from a vicious rainfall.

There's not a lot of people who would be that kind.

"Another time I was freaking out over an assignment. Mum, though she did not understand or had even heard of the subject I was taking before, sat me aside, got me a cookie and made it seem like child's play," Ivy's eyes twinkled momentarily - it had been a Herbology essay on Mandrakes.

"However, this doesn't mean that she was flawless. She'd care too much sometimes - get herself caught up in the fact that someone she just met was having a divorce and getting none of the assets. My mum had to be restrained from going around to this woman's husband's house and scaring him into being fair. My mum was awfully stubborn, though that trait skipped a generation, literally. Her jokes were awful and for her, there was no too much sugar. Her good, though, far outweighed her bad. Let us remember Mia Tonks as a woman who gave even when she had nothing, loved infinitely and battled a ruthless disease until her very last day."

Ivy stared out into the distance, her eyes clouded, wading through her memories. "Modesty and generosity are dying gifts. I think she bought nearly all of their stock."

There was a breath of laughter in response; faint and wispy yet genuine. It was true.

"But now that's she is dead," she continued, "let's not waste her stock. Thank you all for coming. Now, I would like to welcome my father to the lectern to give us a different perspective on Mia."

The eulogy now finished, it allowed for a lull of silence to blanket the room. Andromeda dwelled in her own thoughts temporarily.  _That was so touching,_ she thought,  _not to mention genuine. Wonder how fake my mother's funeral is going to be?_

She was broken out of her melancholy by her father-in-law commencing his piece. "I would like to tell you the story of how I met Mia Tonks, then Mia Brown. She was three years younger than me and a nurse of WWII. We met after WWII, actually - a medical condition prevented my enlistment -, through one of my friend's, Henry Johnson, who she had treated in France. She was so bright, especially in those days of dreary, post-war Britain." His voice was wistful, yearning to live in the tale of his youth. "Mia was not afraid to be who she was, flamboyant clothes and all - this is what drew me to her. She asked me out, actually. Who was I to say no? You don't get many people like her," he said, staring out into the room, daring anyone with a stern glare to disagree with his last statement.

The man hosting the funeral got up and smiled, sadly but his sadness was the sadness of the loss of life, not the loss of a person. "Drinks and afternoon tea will be served in the hall until 4 o'clock when we will go to her burial."

Hot drinks and moist chocolate cake were present, after the funeral, to soothe the grieving hearts of Mia's family and friends.

Nymphadora had a pensive look on her face as she sat down next to her father, swinging her legs against the wooden chair. "So is this why we can't go see Nana anymore?"

Her innocence was heartbreaking; the hopeful look in her eyes, as if her grandmother was going to suddenly sweep into the room and break into one of her stories. The utter patience on Nymphadora's face, as if she would wait an eternity to see her Nana again.

"Yes, darling," replied Ted faintly, leaning forward to press a kiss into her glossy hair. "Yes, this is why."

...

Nymphadora hadn't really understood what was going on the day of her first funeral; however, she had only been 3 years old.

She could only ever remember her Nana, in the vague depths of her memories, being sick. Not sick as in the vomiting kind as she was the year before Nana died during a nasty flu season, but the dying type of sick.

It is a completely different thing, Nymphadora reflects pensively, studying the flecked gold of her emerald granite table under her Piglet lamplight, to know that someone is dying from a disease and them actually being dead.

It is not until today that she actually understands what Nana was sick with.

For today was the day she learnt the cause of her Nana's death; her father had pulled her aside gently from her homework to inform her.

 _MND_ , Dad had said, tears lining up to escape his impossibly kind eyes, _which stands for Motor Neurone Disease, is a non-curable disease where your motor neurons - what controls your body's movement,_ Ted had hurriedly added at the sight of his daughter's puzzled face _\- slowly die; therefore, you cannot control your body anymore - can't chew, can't swallow, can't walk, can't talk, can't-do. You die slowly from this disease that slowly limits you, chips away at your body - there is nothing we could have done to stop it._

There hadn't been a wizarding cure, either. It was a rather under-researched disease; they knew the average life expectancy of the diagnosis - 2 and a half years, which Nana failed to make -, the symptoms, the statistical _facts_ \- but they didn't know how to cure it.

Death was harder on the people it left alive, physically untouched in its vicious wake.

Blinking her eyes to bat away at sudden tears, she picked up an old photo, taken mere weeks before her grandmother died and let her eyes soak it in. 

The photo was a muggle one; a frozen shard of time, the emotions of the day captured by the way Nymphadora's brown eyes sparkled as she looked up at her grandmother. She was sitting on her beloved grandfather's knee. Her hair was her natural muted mousey brown that day for the sake of the other residents of the quaint, tidy (and muggle) nursing home. Books were stacked in a neat pile, the top one's title is legible - _Winnie the Pooh_ - on the coffee table, which also held a steaming cup of Nana's favourite peppermint tea. Her Nana's blue eyes are filled with trapped intelligence as she stared absentmindedly at her granddaughter, her eyes also brushed by affection. Her father is in the midst of reading aloud from _The_ _Great_ _Gatsby_ to Nana, one of her favourites, her mother being the one who took the photo with hands trained by the star's.

Nymphadora gently puts the photo back where it belonged and switched off her lamp, a gift from Nana for her 1st birthday. With that, she rolled over in her bed, pulled the patchwork quilt - lovingly darned by Nana, shortly before her shaking hands prevented her from sewing - over her head. Her nana may be dead, but her presence lingered everywhere she looked. Tears dribbled slowly down her cheeks, dampening the worn cloth. Nymphadora was glad that she couldn't remember her first funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I am unable to update next Saturday - as a consequence, I will update this coming Tuesday instead.
> 
> Again, thanks for reading, and if you have any thoughts or improvements, feel free to leave them in writing if you would like to.
> 
> I have been reading a lot of fic recently that features Nymphadora Tonks so I can gain both some inspiration and a better grasp on how to write her character. Recently, I read this series called [Kaleidoscope](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9291744/1/Kaleidoscope-I-Colours) by shimotsuki11 on fanfiction.net. I recommend reading it if you enjoy her canonical ship.


	5. Bellatrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nymphadora stumbles across a picture of her oldest aunt, someone who looks eerily like her mother.
> 
> Questioning ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short, but what more could I add?

There was a patter of feet at the living room door.

The living room in question was homely, a leather couch sprawling into most of the available space. A stout coffee table, as well as a TV, further assisted in smothering the woollen carpet with furniture.

"Nymphadora," Andromeda called out; her husband always burst into the room abruptly. "What do you want?"

The oaken door vanished into the corridor, revealing her sleep-tousled daughter. Her cotton candy-like hair that would have been at home in a forest, as well as dark eyes that curiously stared up at her mother, added to her innocent look.

Nymphadora tiptoed in, her bunny slippers lighting up. "Mummy? I found this in my drawers."

She was carrying a photo tentatively, holding it out for further inspection.

Andromeda sighed, not annoyed but amused. "That's the wrong side, Nymphadora."

"Oh," Nymphadora said, her body momentarily wilting. Her face, though, quickly brightened as she flipped over the photo to show her mother. "She looks like you, mummy. But you don't have black hair, your hair's my hair, and that's brown. There's a big difference," she added at the end, nodding to herself, appearing very proud to be someone who could differentiate between black and brown.

Had the room been relocated to the middle of a glacier? It certainly felt as likely as a picture of her older, crazed sister floating about her house. Her imperialistic mask was cracked by happiness, for Hogwarts had been dawning in the horizon, finally tangible. Bellatrix, the first of their generation of Blacks about to step foot in Hogwarts. It was the one photo of Bellatrix that Andromeda possesed which had been left untainted by her torch of insanity. How careless had she been?

"That's my sister," she answered stiffly. "Bellatrix."

Nymphadora's look of puzzlement spilled out further into herself. Now her brow was furrowed, her lip was being chewed on and a cloud crept into her eyes. "Why don't I know her? I know Daddy's sister, after all."

 _Ivy_ , Andromeda thought, _and Bellatrix are completely different people. For one, Ivy doesn't force herself into a corset of all things._ It would be better to be blunt in her response in order to limit the amount of times her heart will get mercilessly stabbed.

"Because Aunty Ivy doesn't believe that you shouldn't exist. Bellatrix is crazy, darling, and she doesn't like me, anyway," Andromeda whispered, subconsciously still refusing to believe her words as she let her daughter crawl onto the worn couch beside her.

"So ... she's bad. Ok."

Her immediate acceptance due to her innocence and her belief that her parents' word was law was stunning. It only frightened Andromeda further on how easy Nymphadora would be to brainwash. And there was too many people out there who would love to.

"All my family, not just Bellatrix, is bad. Well, except for Sirius, of course. If you ever see Bellatrix, avoid her and run like the wind. Her last name's Lestrange, by the way," Andromeda said, detangling her daughter's hair deftly with her hands. Honestly, Nymphadora had gone to bed 20 minutes ago.

"Did Sirius tell you about how he fed Professor McGonagall Babbling Beverage at breakfast?" Nymphadora asked, instinctively latching onto the name of the only Black she adored (and knew). "Apparently, she was speaking nonsense all day and even called Professor Dumbledore 'a pink, sparkling clueless rabbit'. He only got three detentions."

"That's silly, not bad," Andromeda paused, reflecting on the prejudice and disdain the Hogwarts staff would probably hold towards Sirius (and shape-shifting relatives) for his mischevious actions. "On second thoughts, once you're at Hogwarts, deny that you're related to Sirius."

"Ok, if you say so, Mummy," Nymphadora said, rolling her eyes. That little bit of cheek was due to Sirius, proving her point.

"Now you can go off to bed and stay there, dear. And don't let Bellatrix bother you, okay? She's a bad person who doesn't deserve any of your thoughts."

...

Unfortunately, Nymphadora had not taken her last words to heart. Also, her current amount of curiosity was leaking out of her, seemingly equivalent to her weight.

"Mummy," she said the next day, which was a wonderful Saturday with the temperature just right for gardening. "What about the rest of your family? Why are they bad?"

Her hair, today a bright orange, was in a tidy fishtail, courtesy of Andromeda. Her blue checkered dress already had a grass stain on it and she was swinging off the door frame, barely lingering inside her home.

Andromeda put down her trowel and took off her gardening gloves, making sure to shake off all of the clinging dirt. This ritual gave her time to privately freak out and compose an appropriate (ish) answer to this inquisition.

"Well," she began, "my parents are very manipulative. That means they make other people do bad things," Andromeda said, continuing to sit cross-legged on the grass, beckoning Nymphadora to come closer. "My sister - my other sister, the younger one - Narcissa, followed my parents' beliefs like a mindless sheep. She married this man, Lucius Malfoy, who was horrible. Couldn't make anyone laugh."

Nymphadora frowned, clearly not satisfied with the tidbits Andromeda had reluctantly dropped. "But what about Bellatrix? I don't care about Sirius' family - clearly, there must be something wrong with them, if they don't like him - but what about her?"

"Bellatrix," Andromeda said, choosing to twiddle with a piece of grass instead of looking at her daughter, "was ... I loved her. As I did the rest of my family. I really did," she added in response to Nymphadora's incredulous look.

Nymphadora squinted as she gazed up at her, blinking because of the vivid sun. "Why did you leave them then?"

"Because they were bad people. You can love people, even if they are bad. Well, Bellatrix was older than me and a Slytherin, like me. Unlike me, she really embraced our house's ethos - pureblood supremacy. She joined this group who voluntarily go out to kill and torture muggleborns and muggles for fun. Bellatrix ... before she decided to actively participate as a pureblood extremist ... was incredibly smart. Really clever. Fun. Scarily observant," Andromeda explained, her voice touched by sorrow as her heart twanged at the tantalising, painful thought of _but what if she hadn't joined You-Know-Who_. "But she was too entwined in her twisted, rotten beliefs to escape the grasping thorns. The baddies devoured her; now she is one of them. Bellatrix would laugh as she killed me."

Whilst her words were a bit too graphic for her young daughter, they painted the picture strongly enough to ingrain in her how bad Bellatrix was.

"Oh," Nymphadora said, her eyes wide. "I like Daddy being alive. She's stupid," she informed her mother loftily, as if she wasn't already aware of this fact and it was a recent discovery of hers, "if she doesn't like Daddy. Everyone likes Daddy; only morons don't."

Making a mental note to tell Sirius off for teaching her daughter the word moron, a ghost of a smile upturned her lips. The matter-of-fact manner in which Nymphadora dealt with this unpleasant information was brilliant. Even if she did use the word moron - not particularly bad, but she was three.

Andromeda stood up, dusting her billowing skirt off. Nymphadora followed, in her clumsiness sinking the grass stain even more into her dress.

"That she is. Very moronic," Andromeda agreed. "Now why don't we go back inside and have some lunch, hm? Don't ever waste your energy on someone you don't like, Nymphadora; they're not worth it. Bellatrix doesn't care for us; let's pay her back in kind, ok?"

At the sight of her daughter's firm nod, she strode back inside. Bellatrix may be a Death Eater, but she wasn't a mother. And a mother's fierceness whilst protecting their children was unrivalled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for reading.


	6. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet birthday, snuggled away in a national park may not be most young girls ideal birthday, but it works for Nymphadora.
> 
>  
> 
> _The moment she had captured was her sister-in-law letting go of a rare, genuine laugh, her hair glowing in the sun, her niece frantically pointing at a bright budgie and her brother, sitting cross-legged on an ancient tree stump, with a book in his lap, reading out its information. It was an idyllic scene._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a little bit late; I wanted to tidy it up a little bit before I released it to the world. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this slice of Tonks' life.

_March 5th, 1977._

It didn't feel like there was a war going on.

With the birds singing and the sun's glare stealing the spring's glistening dew, it didn't look like one here, either.

But the paranoia, the wariness lighting her bones as she turned every corner was real and fathomable. So were the security tests that she encountered every morning at work; the tests that were subtly increasing in their intensity.

The Ministry of Magic were tightening their ropes, squeezing out the untrustworthy mercilessly.

"Aunty Ivy?"

Pulled abruptly out of her war-ridden thoughts, Ivy smiled faintly down at her bouncing niece. "Yes?"

"Where are we going?" Nymphadora asked; today her hair was a frizzy bob of mauve hovering above her petite shoulders.

"To the park," Ivy said, helping her over a fallen log.

"Which one? The one with the pond or the one with the giant slide?" Nymphadora responded curiously.

"Neither of those, Dora," Ivy said, whipping her wand out like a crack of sudden lightning as they rounded yet another corner. "It's not a playground type of park."

A pout glimmered over Nymphadora's face. "But it's my birthday!" she exclaimed.

"It's a National Park. You liked the zoo last year, Dora," Ivy coaxed, momentarily glad that she didn't have to deal with her niece 24/7, "all of the interesting animals, didn't you?"

Nymphadora shot her a look of someone who had fallen on her own sword; with that, a sword that she had buried so long ago that it had been forgotten about. "Yes, I did," she muttered begrudgingly.

"And you also said that you didn't like all of the people milling around, so this year we're removing them from the situation by going to a National Park instead," Ivy explained patiently, tilting her head downwards.

The dirt path started to widen, the gate fuzzy in the distance.

"By foot? Why not apparation?" Nymphadora asked indignantly.

"It is too dangerous," Andromeda cut in from her position slightly ahead, cautiously surveying their surroundings. "We have to be subtle and act like Muggles, even more, these days."

The last part was whispered in a low tone to Ivy, escorted by a cautious glance.

Ted, a few more paces ahead of everybody, called out. "We're here."

"Lead us to the pond then, dear," Andromeda said, holding her hand out for her daughter to take. With her other hand, she untwisted the bag strap of the food that dug into her shoulder. Ivy swung her own bag of presents in the air childishly, once again falling into her silent lapse of melancholy.

...

"I love this!" Nymphadora yelled, springing around their environment in excitement.

A squirrel pattered away, the sun-dappled leaves rustling underfoot.

"Be quieter, dear," Ted said distractedly, setting some mild protection wards with a sweep of his wand. You could never be too careful in these tense times. "You're scaring away the wildlife."

"Oh," she whispered, plopping down on the ground and raising thick black binoculars to her eyes, treasured ones from her grandfather who had been convinced to lend them to her for the day in lieu of his presence. Her tongue was poking out and her eyes were dimming from a brilliant blue to her natural dark brown as her level of concentration increased.

Andromeda laid down the silver tarp on the ground, not bothering with the overhead one; there was no fierce weather to be protected from today. "Nymphadora, you can sit her instead and not stain your clothes for once."

Ivy's niece clambered onto the tarp silently; well, the girl herself remained quiet, but the tarp scraped against the ground in protest of its new weight.

"Do you want ..." Ted trailed off in response to Nymphadora's stony glare. "OK, you can creature gaze for a while. Then, when you're ready, we'll have the cake."

"OK," she replied, her back straightening and her head lifting up towards the thin canopy in her pleasure. "Why can't Sirius come?"

"Sirius has school, Nymphadora," Andromeda stressed - clearly this was a well-worn statement, "in Scotland."

"Still," Nymphadora sulked, slumping towards the ground.

A wave of silence crashed over the clearing. Now devoid of imported human chatter, the thundering of the waterfall took front stage. Frothy white water was cascading into the eerily still pond. Birds of all shapes and sizes and grey squirrels flecked the gnarled trees, thick emerald leaves covering their bare bones.

...

After Nymphadora had spent a sufficient time 'animal watching' as she called it, the cake was relieved of its box.

It was very simple. Or at least for a magical cake. A peppermint flavoured and coloured tree popped out against the mud chocolate cake. Swathes of blueberry icing cut across the dark cake, creating streams. However much she denied it, Nymphadora obviously loved the serenity of the forests.

The fact that her party was so small - only her mother, father and aunt - was largely due to the increasingly taut atmosphere. Advertising a place where Andromeda Tonks' family would be gathered when Bellatrix would love nothing more than to kill them all to torture her sister was unwise.

Nymphadora only managed to consume a small piece of cake; messily, as she had refused both the fork and flimsy cardboard plate that her mother had offered her. Her hands now matched her eyes in a lot of places; though this problem really wasn't a problem, as she happily hummed as she licked off these sticky remnants. Nymphadora had kissed her father's hip by standing on her tippy-toes, a result of him being the only male around and her determination to cut her own piece. _I'm four now, Mummy, I can cut my own cake._

Ivy carefully got out her magical camera. "Is it ok if I take a few pictures whilst you guys play?" she whispered softly into her brother's ear.

A frown marred Ted's face. "Don't you want to participate?"

"Yes," Ivy admitted, "but I think that I'd like to have some tangible recollections of my niece's fourth birthday and to prove that not all happiness has been lost."

Ted shrugged, mouthing _go ahead then_ , before joining his wife and daughter to assist the latter in identifying the surrounding wildlife.

Ivy wandered around, looking for a good angle. Then she lowered the camera down to eye level, peering down the hole and subsequently snapping the shutter. The moment she had captured was her sister-in-law letting go of a rare, genuine laugh, her hair glowing in the sun, her niece frantically pointing at a bright budgie and her brother, sitting cross-legged on an ancient tree stump, with a book in his lap, reading out its information. It was an idyllic scene. The resulting smoke from the photo flowed behind her, the piece of the film falling into her awaiting hand. Placing it gently into her book to develop it, Ivy closed her eyes and tried to peacefully, silently enjoy this moment.

Moments like this didn't come by every day in a war. Murders and people going missing were much more frequent than the moments when she got to witness pure joy and innocence.

Nymphadora's voice filtered through her thoughts once again. "Aunty Ivy? Aunty Ivy!" Small, firm hands shook her shoulders. "Come on, I feel like making a very important decision right now!"

Ivy's eyes flickered open. She stared into the dark orbs of her niece, fierceness - and admiration - shining through.

Nymphadora tugged her upwards, surprisingly strong for someone her age. For the sake of her sockets, Ivy got up. "I'm coming, Dora. Just be a little patient now, m'kay?"

Nymphadora twisted around to look at her, facing her once again. "I was being patient. But you were ignoring me, Aunty Ivy, and that's a very rude thing to do. So now you have to listen to me."

A spark of positivity lit up in Ivy's chest. The bluntness, the simplicity of her speech as well as the utter trust in Nymphadora's gaze blew her off her feet. So far, Andromeda and Ted had done an excellent job at protecting their daughter from the shrapnel of this horrendous war.

"Alright, Dora. What is it?" Ivy asked, letting herself be seated roughly on the tarp, automatically leaning onto her brother's shoulder, carelessly entwining their arms.

"What I want to be called. And by who," she stated proudly. "I have been thinking about this for a while, and now that I am a big four-year-old, I am old enough to finally make this very permanent decision."

A very bold decision indeed. But it was typical of Nymphadora to do something like this, and she always thought things through well before making a choice, an impressive ability for someone so young.

"People close to me will call me Dora. Like you two," she said, pointing at the Tonkses' siblings, "because Mummy will _always_ call me Nymphadora, no matter what I want to be called. And only she will be ever allowed to call me Nymphadora because she's special. OK?"

The three adults nodded bemusedly. Here they were at war, but today they were learning what was appropriate to call a little girl. Well, you couldn't deny that Nymph - _I have to start calling her Dora even in my head,_ Ivy thought reproachfully, _or I might slip_ \- possessed a special charm that let you escape its horrors, if only briefly.

"And what," Andromeda asked primly, a shard of horror glinting in her eyes, "will everyone else be allowed to call you?"

"Tonks," Dora answered promptly. "My last name. I like it, and it reminds me of my family every time I hear it. That's what I primarily want to be known as."

Andromeda released a little sigh, sharing a quick look with her husband which Ivy found impossible to interpret. "Well, we agreed that we would let you be whoever you wanted to be. So yes, Nymphadora. Be called Tonks by the rest of the population, if that's what you really want. It's your decision. Now, would you like to open some presents?"

Her big announcement now over, Dora had started to scuff her shoes. She looked up at the word _presents_ , eyes alight with anticipation. "Yes, please!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene continues to build the groundworks of some of the primary characters in this story, but it also continues to build an atmosphere of this is war.
> 
> Again, any kudos, subscriptions or comments are greatly appreciated.


	7. Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius begs his cousin and her husband to join the Order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately, common sense - and their daughter - must come first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading. I've entered a busy period and, therefore, will no longer have an update schedule. 
> 
> Warning: the end gets a little bit angsty. And worse with the foreknowledge we have the characters don't. There's a little bit of fluff.

_Summer of 1978_

"Again, thank you all for joining," Albus Dumbledore said, his smile broad and welcoming as the 5 recent graduates hustled into the room. "Take a seat, please."

Sirius threw himself down next to his best friend, coughing as the disturbed dust from the ancient and decomposing table invaded his nostrils. Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew clambered onto the benches beside them. Perhaps a secluded, long forgotten room above the Hog's Head wasn't the best or cleanest place to congregate, but it was the most convenient and secure one for the time being.

"Your first mission is very simple. It will exist for as long as you are part of the Order of the Phoenix and it is not compulsory. Your mission is the following: tactful and sensible recruitment. You should not invite anyone lightly," Dumbledore explained seriously, his brow furrowing, "as our organisation's secrecy is paramount. If someone denies your offer, do not take personal offence; some people would like to join us but cannot. The most common reasons are physical handicaps or their children.  Thankfully, the majority of people in this situation become the Order's allies instead. However, if their continued knowledge of our existence is dangerous, you are allowed to safely wipe their memories. Good luck and the first official meeting you will attend is next week at the Prewetts' household. You will be discreetly told the address and exact time before then." 

A waft of silence settled into place as everyone thoughtfully absorbed this information.

Already, Sirius' mind was buzzing with possibilities. Peter's mother could provide them with food. Fleamont and Euphemia's home could be used as a safe house. Remus' father was a bank on magical creatures, especially on boggarts, ghosts and the like. Lily could talk to her own friends about joining, who were all skilled people, such as the fierce Mary MacDonald.

But who could Sirius ask? All of his close friends were already in and for family ... Ted and Andromeda, perhaps? They had Dora, who they would die for in a heartbeat, and Andromeda's resemblance to Bellatrix was uncanny ... still, it was worth a shot. In any case, he hadn't visited them for months.

...

His boots - dragon leather, a vivid green much to the chagrin of Professor McGonagall - crunched on the scattered grey gravel. Had the windows always been tinted? Hadn't the door been a popping pink last time he visited instead of this sombre navy blue, almost black, it was now? Secrecy and invisibility were becoming more important these days, clearly.

With a few powerful strides, Sirius was standing by the door. The smell of fresh paint was only just starting to fade. Withdrawing a battered silver key from his jeans - loose, midnight black with deep pockets lined with even more glinting silver - he twisted it around in the keyhole, but it didn't work. Wrong way. With a small huff of frustration, he tried the other way. But that didn't work either.

Sirius could hear, distantly, a flurry of frantic feet approaching him. The door creaked upon, only a slit of the house visible.

"Who is it?" a cautious voice probed.

"It's me, Sirius," Sirius answered, unsettled but not surprised. It was no secret that they were on Bellatrix's personal hit list.

The crack widened, but only minutely. "Prove it."

"The first time I met your daughter, she smelled like peaches. Because you were still learning how to bake because our parents never bothered to teach us. But, we still had treacle tart. Now, Andromeda, is that really you?"

Before he went to Hogwarts, before he proved himself a million times over, Andromeda would have scoffed at her cousin's serious tone. But not now. "You were sorted into Gryffindor because of me. Because you had seen my rebellion, I gave you the strength to allow the Sorting Hat to make such a bold decision. Or so you told me, anyway."

He sighed. "OK, I'll come in now."

The door yawned open. Andromeda stood there, her back uncharacteristically slumped. Her long hair was frazzled, stuffed into a yellow scrunchie. Bags hung under her eyes, horribly 3D and dark. The worse thing he noticed was, however, the utter fear prevalent in her eyes. She was older than him, yes, but he still felt an urge to protect her.

Andromeda led him into the dining room. Not much had changed in the five years since he had first set foot here. Everything was a little bit more worn, but the biggest difference, aside from the tinted windows, was a multitude of bright, colourful pictures that sprawled the walls. A loopy, messy signature reading _N.Tonks_ adorned all of them.

"The paintings are Nymphadora's. From childcare. We're probably going to send her to a local muggle primary school too. It's not like any magical ones exist, and it would be easier for us and a great experience for Nymphadora," Andromeda said, having noticed the direction of his gaze.

"Oh," Sirius replied. "It's nice to see you, Andromeda."

"You too." Andromeda surveyed him, the fear in her eyes melting away into concern. "How did your NEWTs go?"

"Ok," Sirius said, shrugging." The results won't be here until the end of July, though. Until then, I can't really apply for a job."

Andromeda nodded. The silence and abruptness weren't awkward, exactly, it just highlighted the paranoia generated by the war. Her husband strode into the room.

"Hello, Sirius," Ted said. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Sirius responded, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. "Is Dora home?"

"Yes, but she's resting at the moment. It was difficult enough to get her like that, so, if you stick around 'till she wakes up, you'll see her."

Sirius nodded, sinking into the couch. "That's good. Actually, I have something to ask you two about. Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?

...

"Come on, Andy! This is war!"

The strained voice of Sirius Black infiltrated every crevice of the Tonkses' quaint home to be met by adamant silence.

Sirius continued to pace across the woollen, sapphire coloured carpet. Spills and other blemishes on it told a multitude of stories; he was wearing it out further, but at the moment, he frankly didn't care. Why couldn't Andromeda see how important this was?

"I can't fight, Sirius," Andromeda answered softly. "I'm too much of a liability. My appearance resembles Bellatrix's too much - it'd be dangerous for me to enter the battlefield. The Death Eaters will be able to tell the difference and gleefully strike me down. Your fellows could mistake me for my sister in a heated battle and take me down as such. Above all, I'm not a fighter, Sirius, and I never will be. I am someone who researches and helps to find cures to medical problems the magical community faces. Also," she fiercely added, "I can't risk abandoning my daughter."

Sirius grudgingly had to (mentally) agree with her firm arguments. Those who they had mixed with as children - those who now donned a Death Eater's mask with a sickening amount of pride - would be able to see Andromeda for Andromeda and not their colleague. His fellow fighters, however ... he couldn't say for certain that Andromeda's fears wouldn't come true.

So he turned to her husband instead. "Ted," he pleaded, even going as far as to flutter his ridiculously long eyelashes.

"No," Ted said, cutting him off immediately. "I can't ... Sirius, do you understand how malicious Bellatrix is? She would use me to torture Andromeda. And yes, whilst we would prefer not to stay out of the thick of a war, we have a daughter to think about. I can't."

This argument had been going on ever since Sirius had asked them to join. Sirius knew he shouldn't push it, but ... they needed all the help they could possibly hope to get.

Drained, Sirius slumped back into the couch, his legs opening in defeat, listlessly staring at the blank TV.

"This doesn't mean," Andromeda said, wincing at the fallen look that now adorned Sirius' face, "that we won't help. Call us allies of the Order of the Phoenix, if you will. We support you, Sirius." Her hand landed on his shoulder, looping around to hold him in a loose, comforting hug. "We don't want him to prevail any more than you do. Our hearts and our souls are behind you. But not our bodies. We're too fragile, Sirius, and we've woven ourselves too many strings to our daughter to risk cutting them loose."

At this, the door, closed to create the illusion of privacy, burst upon. "SIRIUS!"

"Sleeping beauty awakes," Ted muttered to his wife, a half-hearted, whispy laugh emerging from her in response.

The energetic 5-year-old flung herself at him, burying himself into his arms, her knees sinking into the carpet. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming today?" she asked, a tinge of hurt and annoyance colouring her voice. "I've missed you, Sirius! Apparently," she said, rolling her eyes, "you've been studying for your NEWTs. Apparently, they're very important. But it's been a week since school ended, and I've been waiting for you to visit, but you haven't! I can't go anywhere alone, you know," she added reproachfully.

Sirius smiled. "I'm here now. What do you want to do?"

...

After his failed (but not really failed; allies were always welcome, Dumbledore had said) mission, the prospect of spending an afternoon with his youthful cousin (his first cousin once removed, but who cared about the technicalities) was certainly a soothing balm to his growing melancholy.

It was, in short, refreshing. 

"Mum doesn't let me braid her hair or my own. But," and at this Dora's eyes glinted mischievously, "she hasn't told me I can't braid yours. Can I braid your hair, Sirius?"

"Sure," he replied.  _What could go wrong?_

She led him up to her bedroom, in the process stumbling up a step.

"Do you need ..." Sirius trailed off as Dora clambered back up, dusting her skirt off with practised ease.

"I'm ok," Dora said, twisting around to smile at him. Adoration glittered in her eyes, and one of her bottom teeth had fallen out recently.

Her door was thrown wide open. Her bed was a tangled heap of soft pastel blankets; three, to be exact. One blue, one pink, one grey.

"Sit," Dora ordered, running up to perch on her bed. "Here," she added for clarification, as he continued to stand, stunned at the overwhelmingly _innocent_ atmosphere of her room.

Her fingers entered his hair. "Mum says that you split it into three, and weave them together."

The tugging was a little bit painful. But it was accidental, innocent. Dora wasn't trying to hurt him.

"Dora," he reprimanded gently, "be careful. I can feel it when you tug, remember?"

He felt her small hands leave his hair. "Sorry," she said meekly. "I'll try to be more careful."

In the end, the braid was so loose that it fell apart the second Dora let go of it.

However, it was a braid. Sirius turned around to face his cousin.

"Practice makes perfect," Sirius said in response to her crestfallen look. "Things can only look up from here."

Dora's flame of joy was still easy to keep burning. "OK. Let's go outside now," she declared, grabbing his hand as she sprang from her bed. "There is so much more that I want to do with you."

...

The house was nice. Buried away in Ottery St Catchpole - close proximation to family, James had muttered when they received the (coded) letter last night - it was spacious yet cluttered.  Still, this didn't settle Sirius' foul mood at having failed his mission.

"Are you okay?"

Sirius turned around, blinking due to the bright lights which were illuminating the interior of the house.

Fabian. Sirius scowled. "Imma fine, thanks. Just here for the meeting."

"You're one of the new recruits, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Sirius muttered.

"Come on in, then." Fabian walked deeper into the house, clearly excepting Sirius to dutifully follow him.

They stopped next to a steep stairwell, warmer light spilling in from the dining room. The walls were weathered oak and the mossy green carpet coating the stairs was worn with use.

"Tell me the truth. Sirius, is it?" he asked, seeking clarification. No security tests here. After all, is there any point with the Fidelius Charm?

"Yeah."

Fabian casually leant against the smooth, pine bannister. The escaping light from the next room dappled his orange hair, making fires dance in it. "Why do you look like your sworn enemy's cat just dragged you across the rockiest hills in existence during a thunderstorm?"

 _Creative._ Sirius snorted. "I asked my cousin to join. And her husband. They rejected my offer," he said ruefully, "but they did say they would align themselves with us as allies. They don't want their daughter to lose her parents, and," he continued, scuffing his shoes on the rough granite floor, "it's Andromeda Tonks. You have to be physically close or have known her to tell the difference between her and her murderous sister."

Fabian's eyes drifted over him, empathy flickering in his gaze. "Same thing happened to me. But Molly, my sister, was pregnant then, so I couldn't really press it. Not everyone can fight, Sirius. We're fighting for those who can't. We're fighting so the children of the next generation don't have to. My nephews," he said wistfully, "Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George. All so innocent. I'd die a thousand time in a thousand painful ways if they were to never feel the painful dagger of war."

 _Dora._  Dead, probably tortured. Her eyes, now so loving, shattered. It caused needles, sharp, painful needles, to prick at every crevice of his body, made his heart twist into an unbreakable knot.  _We must protect them._ "I agree," Sirius replied, his voice hoarse, "children have no place in war. If Dora," his voice faltered momentarily, "got caught up in it, I don't know what I'd do."

Fabian smiled, his eyes sad. "Me too. Now, let's go help prevent that from happening as long as blood flows in our bodies."

~.~

Dying before other people die doesn't prevent them from following you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to respond however you want. Again, I flashed forward a little bit to add in another punch.


	8. Raid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nymphadora gets caught up in a Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley, where she was innocently enjoying ice cream with her cousin, Sirius. The result isn't pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically speaking this chapter is from Nymphadora's perspective, but the language in the chapter is intentionally quite mature due to its action.
> 
> Also, life (a.k.a exams, and then holidays of laziness) happened. Hope this makes up for my prolonged absence.

_Summer, 1978._

"Apricot ice cream, please. Yes, with the strawberry sherbet."

Dora swung her legs as she patiently waited at the table - a small, turtle patterned glass one -, her dark eyes boring holes into her cousin's head.

"And chocolate for me." Sirius swivelled around on his heel to wink at her, his hands full of ice cream and devoid of the glittering galleons he had used to pay for them. She stuck her tongue out at him. Chocolate was an awfully boring option. "Thank you, Florean."

She waited for him to both manoeuvre around a cage, which contained an owl which was flashing all of the colours of the rainbow, and hand her the ice cream before she said, "Chocolate is boring, Sirius. Mum said that's been your favourite ice cream flavour since before I was born. Why can't you be different for once? Normal is overrated."

Sirius finished licking off a dribble of brown from his arm and looked up. "Not normal, Dora."

"You couldn't even get the exploding chocolate option with fireworks, no, you have to get plain chocolate," she continued, completely ignoring his statement. "Can you-"

Sirius conjured a small silver spoon, effectively cutting off her rant before she could get into her stride. "Here, Dora. Give me some of your fruit explosion."

She scooped out a little bit from her pink and orange swirl of ice cream with the spoon and held it out for him. "Eat."

His hand dwarfed hers. It was easy for him to retrieve his spoon and let it sit in his mouth. Sirius let out an involuntary sigh of ecstasy as it dissolved in his mouth. "This is so good. Why did I-"

"Never try it before?" Dora finished for him, giving him what she hoped was a wickedly conniving smile. "That's because you're both boring and old."

"If you say so." They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate, a flurry of wizards and witches sweeping past the store, though the crowd was oddly subdued overall.

"Sirius," Dora said, twisting around to face him, "where is everybody?"

Sirius paused his nibbling. "Well, it's-" he looked uncertain, caught in the middle of a flash flood, "hot, really hot, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, "but that is what makes it a perfect day for ice cream."

The crowd - but it was not really a crowd, instead it was a scattering of people who all looked too worried for a summer's day - continued to walk past them as they had their ice creams.

All of a sudden Sirius - already having finished his ice cream, for he was older and therefore quicker - tensed.

It was like the sun had disappeared. Though there were still patches of light dappling the alley, the atmosphere was now uncannily eerie. The chatter had frozen and subsequently shattered into nothingness. The people had flocked like waves of flies into the nearby stores and, as a result, the cobbled pathway next to them was deserted.

And then someone screamed and the world came tumbling down with it.

It was like nothing Dora had ever heard before in her life. It wasn't the weak squeals of her mother, desperately trying to escape her dad's mischevious hands, or herself when she was excited. No, this scream pierced her stomach and turned her ice cream to dust in her mouth. Her cone slipped out of her limp hand. 

Her hair flickered to brown as did her eyes. She didn't need a mirror to know that she had instinctively reverted to her natural state. 

She yearned to speak, to be able to get an answer from Sirius about what was going on, but the expression on Sirius' face told her not to.

People, those whose faces were covered by a grotesque mask, swooped into the abandoned alley. They didn't look like they were here to shop.

Quietly, ever so quietly, Sirius reached over to her, all the way from across the table. With his hands, strong and reassuring, he lifted her up and pulled her against his body. She could detect the hammering of his heart as her head laid flat against his chest, her own matching its frantic pace. His torso twisted underneath her as he clearly struggled to apparate, but it was in vain; there was only a sizzle of smoke in response. They were trapped.

There was a woman who stood out from her fellows because of her dark, curly hair spilling out from beneath her pallid mask. Her gaze fell upon the pair. Dora shivered. It felt malicious and wrong, wrong, so completely, absolutely wrong. Her thin clothes were not enough to protect her from the immense power this woman radiated, for it was akin to the intensity of the sun's steady glare. 

"Sirius," the woman said, and she made his name sound like a curse, "how are you, cousin?"

She stepped closer, close enough that if she reached out with her gloved hand, she could rip Dora away from Sirius.

"Go away, Bellatrix," he muttered fiercely. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"But isn't it always the time and place to be an exterminator? To be one of the elite who is skilled and worthy enough to purge those who are beneath us?" Bellatrix smiled, but it was not one of kindness or warmth; rather, it was one which harboured both the cruelty and viciousness of ice. "Including - tell me, who is the little girl who lays trembling in your arms?"

"None of your business," Sirius replied, shifting his hands to cover Dora's face.

Dora couldn't stop a scowl from escaping her, despite the seriousness of the situation. She was not trembling, thank you very much!

Bellatrix knelt down to be at her eye level. Behind her, her comrades had desecrated the shops of Diagon Alley with unforgivable violence, leaving everything in their paths in shreds. Some of the shoppers had vanished, fleeing into the fireplaces, others had stayed to fight, only barely being able to halt this swarm of destruction. It looked like the tide was turning in the civilians' favour, if only minutely. "Dearie," she said, and Dora wondered how her afternoon had taken such a horrible turn, "tell me, who are you?"

Dora trusted Sirius, and if Sirius didn't trust this Bellatrix - the name, come to think of it, stirred something deep within her mind - neither did she. She buried herself deeper into Sirius' arms, barely restraining a sob. She just wanted to go home. Her mum would be home from work by now and her dad would be as well shortly.

Maybe if she didn't look at Bellatrix, didn't physically acknowledge the problem, she would go away and leave her alone.

There was a swish of robes, presumably Bellatrix getting up. Her voice - her sickly, pristine voice - penetrated her ears once again. "Sirius, we will not show you mercy. Surely you can disclose her identity to me, your beloved cousin and make things easier for you both? Is this your daughter?"

If the atmosphere hadn't been so strained, Dora might have laughed at the ridiculous notion of Sirius having a daughter.

"No," he said, his arms tightening even more, somehow, around her body. "I don't have a daughter. Bellatrix," and now he was swiftly becoming desperate, his voice cracking, "even you wouldn't be cruel enough to harm or, worse, kill a five-year-old-"

"A five-year-old?" Bellatrix sounded delighted. "Ah, I see who she is now. My niece. Of course, how perfectly wonderful. A family reunion."

A tremble overtook Dora's body. A shard of a memory came to light, one which was so awful and one which she had fervently refused to believe because it was simply so terrible:  _Bellatrix would laugh as she killed me._ This woman was her mother's sister, who did not care for the grief she caused her sister, did not care for the gift of life. The woman in front of her - her aunt, she thought with disgust - would gladly kill her. She wished even harder for home, for her mother's cooking, awful as it was whenever she tried something new but beautiful after a lot of practice, for her father's dreadful yet plentiful jokes. But, despite her wishes, she remained where she was, stranded in Diagon Alley, a hairbreadth away from her death.

"Nymphadora Tonks." A fingernail lightly traced her face and she shuddered. "Hello, dear. Would you like to play with me?"

 _No._ She tried to envision the park with the swings where she had spent so many glorious days with her Aunty Ivy, the sun bathing her cheeks gently and her aunt's smiles genuine and loving.

Sirius snarled, enraged. "Unfortunately, her parents do not permit her to _play_ with lunatics. Fight me, kill me, torture me if you want to, but leave Dora alone. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"Except for existing." A wand poked her face roughly. "I've wanted to do this since the day she was born."

Sirius' wand appeared in his hand with a sharp flick of his wrist. " _Stupefy_!"

But the bright scarlet light which shot out of his wand missed, instead it knocked out the multicoloured owl which was almost directly behind Bellatrix. 

"Oh, Sirius, sweet, naïve Sirius. Do you really think you'll win against me? The Dark Lord's most loyal and dedicated follower?" Bellatrix laughed, but her laugh held no humour and was as ruthless as hail. "Well, darling, fight me then. But first of all, let's make things a little bit fairer. _Petrificus Totalus_."

Sirius' desperate cry of Protego was pointless and he froze, his legs snapping together but his eyes still painfully aware and darting between his two cousins. Dora squeezed her eyes shut. This was it. She would never see Hogwarts, never get her first wand, never see her parents ever again. She would die at the age of 5, with so little accomplished in her life.

Bellatrix twirled her wand, her smile twisted and thin. "Sirius, be sure to tell my sister how you did nothing as her daughter died in your arms.  _Avada-"_

There was a snap; she could feel a trickle of blood flow down her cheek, but, somehow, miraculously, she was still alive.

"What - how - you absolute brat-"

Dora opened her eyes. Bellatrix's wand laid in splinters all over the shop, one of which was embedded into her own right cheek. 

The magic holding Sirius down had faltered alongside the explosion; she could feel his warm arms wrap around her once again, his legs squiggling restlessly underneath her.

"She doesn't want to die, and her magic protected her. Though it should never have had to do that." He carefully put Dora back onto her seat and stood up, his wand now a useable weapon in his pliable hand. Sirius pointed his wand at Bellatrix and spat, "Don't you dare come anywhere near my family ever again."

All of Bellatrix's comrades had disappeared, except for one, who was lying on the cobblestones, unmoving. No one else was around; the fighters on their side had vanished. But as she gazed listlessly out into the alley, a man appeared with a crack like a whip. 

"Sirius, I came as soon as I heard the alert-" The man looked frantic, his wild black hair sticking up in all directions possible.

"Fight now, talk later," Sirius said, gesturing towards Bellatrix, who he had shot thick black ropes at. "She's wandless."

Bellatrix writhed, the ropes cutting into her skin, as she glared at Sirius. "You dare," she hissed, "treat me like this; I, a noblewoman of the purebloods who serves the honourable Dark Lord?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Yes, I dare with happiness.  _Stupefy."_ A jet of red light shot out of his wand again, this time hitting Bellatrix in her pale throat. "What will we do with her, James?"

James shook his head. "I don't know. Get your cousin back to her family first though - look at her, she's terrified."

Sirius ruffled his own hair. "I'll get Dora back to Andromeda immediately. Are you sure you can handle this on your own?"

"Lily's on her way," he replied. Hazel eyes drifted down to meet hers, ones brimming with kindness and love. "But we're fighting this war. Not our children."

Dora looked up at Sirius, her eyes glistening with tears she only now felt safe to shed. "Can I please go home, Sirius? Please!"

Sirius embraced her as her hair slowly faded to black. "Sure, Dora. Let's get you home."

...

"Mum!" Dora rushed from Sirius's grasp the second they entered her garden, the long grass tickling her ankles. She hugged her mother, who had been nervously pacing on the lawn but was now holding onto her daughter as if she planned on never letting go.

Andromeda stroked her daughter's hair absentmindedly. "What happened, Sirius? Please don't tell me you got caught up in the raid."

Sirius reluctantly nodded his head. "I think I was the target. Bellatrix talked to us." He leaned forward to whisper in Andromeda's ear, but Dora still caught it. "She almost killed her, Andromeda. It was horrible. I've got to get back, though, we managed to capture her. Dora shattered her wand - her magic instinctively saving her life, I think."

Her mother increased the intensity of her strokes, caressing Dora's scalp. "Sirius," she said quietly, "you can go now. Thank you for bringing her home."

His robes swished as he vanished into thin air. Tears were already cascading down Dora's cheeks, but she was not gasping or shrieking in terror. Instead, her tears were silent and thick, dripping down her face to be absorbed by her mother's floral skirt.

Andromeda's face crumbled at the sight of her despair, hefting her daughter onto her hip tenderly. Swaying slightly in her disbelief of what had recently befallen her daughter, she wandered into the house and sat down on the couch in the living room, Dora nestled in her lap.

"Dear," she said softly, still stroking her daughter's dull black hair, "can you tell me what happened?"

Dora leaned further into the comforting, familiar warmth of her mother. "It was horrible," she said, her voice muffled, "Bellatrix was very mean; she tried to kill me. I never want to see her ever again."

"And hopefully you never will," Andromeda responded, but Dora could see the small glimmer of doubt that lingered in her eyes. "Nymphadora, you're not allowed to go to Diagon Alley for - for the foreseeable future."

If the mood had not been sombre and had she not been feeling so numb and shaken by what had just passed, perhaps Dora would have protested her mother's decree; but, as it was, she was simply relieved to be in her mother's arms again and was, therefore, willing to agree with whatever she said.

"Ok," she whispered. "Is Dad coming home soon?"

As she spoke, the door burst open, nearly swinging off its hinges. 

Her father sprinted to the couch. His face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat and his fair hair was plastered to his forehead. He scooped his daughter out of his wife's arms with the utmost care. "Dora - I was so worried - the raid -"

Andromeda slumped into the couch uncharacteristically, watching her husband and daughter with worry. "She's alive. But - we can't let her go to Diagon Alley again until the war is over."

Looking over Dora's shoulder, who was so small against her father's frame, he nodded, tears clinging to his golden eyelashes.

And as she clung to her father, all she wanted was for Bellatrix - and those like her - to forevermore leave her and her family alone.

~~But that was wishful thinking.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some explanations to how this scene is logically possible. First of all, how did they end up almost dying?
>
>> _Bellatrix twirled her wand, her smile twisted. "Sirius, be sure to tell my sister how you did nothing as her daughter died in your arms. Avada-"_
>> 
>> _There was a snap; she could feel a trickle of blood flow down her cheek, but, somehow, miraculously, she was still alive._
>> 
>> _"What - how - you absolute brat-"_  
> 
> 
> Sirius is a recent graduate of Hogwarts who is also protecting his cousin and he can't apparate because there are wards in place; Bellatrix is a cold-blooded, sadistic murderer who is insanely talented. Unfortunately, Bellatrix won.
> 
> But what about the explosion?
>
>> _Dora shattered her wand - her magic instinctively saving her life, I think._  
> 
> 
> __
> 
> Sirius is quite right - Tonks desperately wanted to get away from this crazy woman and was utterly terrified. As we know, accidental magic typically occurs due to strong emotions and a want or need. She didn't want to die so her magic lashed out and protected her.
> 
> If anyone has any other questions regarding this rather intense chapter, feel free to ask! Also, do you think I portrayed Bellatrix accurately - remember, this is _before_ Azkaban.


	9. The Freedom of Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of a war, times to let loose are few.
> 
> A.k.a: Tonks gets some dirt off Sirius from some people and learns that laughter may be the real medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... No inspiration? *hides*
> 
> There was the lovely person who left 6? I think comments a while ago, and, I just noticed that there are 4 subscribers to this story, wow...
> 
> And as thanks to these 5 people, here is a fluffy chapter! Pretty filler, lots of exposition :). Comments and kudos are, as always, appreciated.

Dora hasn't heard her mum laugh in what felt like years.

Whilst, in reality, she had heard it, it had always been restrained, forced out like a weapon against the war.

Dora very much wished that she still had a vague, abstract understanding of the state of their world right now.

Not that it had ever been any different for her.

Only 5-years-old and all of her memories were tainted by the thick, unrelenting fog of war.

But tonight was Christmas Eve, and everyone she knew and cared for was here - here being Sirius' home, a little (at least on the outside) apartment squashed away under the thrumming life of London.

Everyone being adults. She didn't really know anyone her own age who was magical like her. Long gone were the days when she could wildly choose a hair colour (and that had been it, even though she knew from a frightening experience when her eyes had suddenly flashed gold that she could change more than just her hair); now she had to live with her natural mousy brown, day in and day out. Whilst she didn't loathe the shade, particularly, she was sick of it and felt that it didn't truly represent herself.

But back to her mother's guardless laugh, one that steamrolled any pretences.

Here, at this party - for the apartment was very well guarded, Tonks swore that she had heard that Dumbledore himself had installed the wards - it was like everyone in the room had given a coordinated exhale.

There was still paranoia present, still stress and worry and all that which had lingered in her life since the day she was born, but it was much fainter than normal.

Lost to the sway of the night, snow swirling behind the thick velvet curtains (Tonks was pretty sure her mother had chosen them; they really weren't Sirius' style), the adults mingled without restraint.

And it was nice, really. Tonks hadn't seen her family without tense faces for ages, especially after the - the incident.

But she was only 5-years-old and this was an adult party. So she was sitting in her dress on a chair, the one near the window looking out towards the London Star - which she still hadn't been on, despite her begging -, transfixed by the whirling snow, when a woman with long, auburn hair sat down next to her.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said. "I'm Lily, Sirius' friend."

"Hello," Tonks replied, letting the curtain drop. "My name's Tonks, and Sirius is my cousin!"

Lily's emerald gaze softened. "Oh. Yes, he's told me about you."

"Good things or bad?" Tonks asked, suddenly nervous. What if Sirius was only pretending to like her because they were related and maybe he just felt obligated and, really, she was just a little kid, wasn't she such a nuisance -

"Good. Though you must tell me how you managed to let him let you touch his hair, let alone braid it," Lily said, calming her worries and sparking her curiosity as she put her glass down on a nearby table.

Tonks' gaze darted to where Sirius was laughing with a man with messy hair, a little braid she had lazily done earlier stark against his otherwise free-flowing hair.

"I asked?" she said, confused. It hadn't exactly been difficult.

Lily laughed. "Didn't know Sirius could be such a pushover."

The man who had been talking to Sirius waltzed over and threw his arm over Lily.

"He's not. Well, with us, anyway. Hi, Tonks," he said, dropping onto the couch. 

"You are James." And, well, that may have been a little blunt, but he's the friend who Sirius won't shut up about. The one who had recently gotten engaged -

"Oh," she whispered, spotting a glittering ring on Lily's left hand. "Are you the ones who are engaged?"

James gave Lily a look which can only be described as one of fondness.

"Yes. Does Sirius talk about me?"

"All the time," Tonks replied, fiddling with her bracelet. "It's quite annoying, actually. Did you really give your potion's teacher that potion?" The details have deserted her, which is frustrating.

"The balding one? Hidden inside the crystalised pineapple?" James asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes!" Tonks beamed. "You also always dragged Sirius into trouble, can you give me some tips - but I don't wanna get caught, too."

James was grinning, oddly familiar hazel eyes glinting.

"Oh," Tonks gasped, clapping her hands together in excitement. "You're Mrs Potter's son!"

Tonks scanned the room for Mrs Potter - she'd been the cause of her mother's free laugh earlier. They were still talking.

"Yes, I am," he said, the look of interest and approval in his eyes increasing.

A man - one who looked around the same age as Sirius, but his brown hair was already flecked with grey - coughed. "James."

James rolled his eyes dramatically, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder. "Remus. Can't you see that I am currently engaged in a scintillating conversation with one of our successors?"

"Hm." Remus regarded James drily. "Well, Sirius is a little drunk at the moment. It's your turn."

Tonks could distinctly hear Lily scoff "a little" under her breath and couldn't help but agree. Sirius was trying to talk to a painting.

James reluctantly hauled himself off of the couch. "Fine. We'll continue this later," he added, nodding at Tonks.

"I'd like that. D'you have any embarrassing stories about Sirius to share later?"

James laughed. "Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me," and he dashed off before Sirius started to woo the pot plants.

Remus tried to dart away. Lily raised an eyebrow and pointed at the recently vacated seat next to her. He sighed and reluctantly sat down.

Though when he smiled, his eyes were warm. "Hi. Is it Tonks?"

"Yes," she said. He looked kind but worn, like nearly every other person here tonight, but his weariness looked deeper than gashes from the war. 

"Do you have any embarrassing stories about Sirius?" she asked in excitement, her eyes lighting up.

"I do," he said, a spark of mischief entering his eyes. "So does Lily. Why don't you start?"

Lily smirked. "Of course. There was the time when he pranked himself accidentally but," she paused, "the rest of us managed to avoid it. And by us, I mean literally everyone. He had 'this person is an idiot' tattooed on the back of his robes until Remus took pity on him and made it bigger. Oh, and unremovable."

Tonks tried and failed to fight to fight off a bout of laughter. She loved Sirius, really, but this was simply too funny.

Remus shrugged. "He held his wand the wrong way. He thought it didn't work and none of us bothered to correct him."

And all throughout the night, various friends of Sirius (though Lily was a constant) came by to give his young yet eager cousin some dirt on him.

Yet Tonks favourite story by far was Remus', which had been succinct yet intriguing.

Though that may have stemmed more from his wit than the nature of the story, as well as the spark of interest that was welling inside of her.

He had simply said: "he once got out of detention by charming Dumbledore" and left it at that, disappearing to mix with the others.

It was her favourite for one reason; whilst all of the others had been abundant with juicy details, this one she had enough to wriggle the story out of Sirius himself. It gave her a guarantee that the peace of this evening would carry on because she had been given a story to fill in later.

Even though they were at war, the laughter filling the room reminded her that, even at the worst of times, that laughter could break the pressing gloom to make way for the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :).


End file.
